


Superego

by ArgentAzure_i



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Brotherly Love, Character Study, Gen, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 12:30:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8285947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgentAzure_i/pseuds/ArgentAzure_i
Summary: What makes a man a man?A look at Descole's life, how he had hoped, lost and changed. What had happened that would make a man hunt down ruins, oppose and oppress people, and hide his intentions and feelings, and lose hope?Contains spoilers.





	

What is Jean Descole's name now?

 

After all, what was "Descole" even? He had been called Hershel Bronev, thought to be Theodore Bronev, and had once assumed the name of Desmond Sycamore. Was that why Descole wore a mask, to hide and forget bright red glasses, or dark brown hair, or russet eyes, or the hollow, beaten-down heart he bore? To try disguise his heritage, to erase bloodshot eyes and stubborn tears?

Hershel is no longer his name, it is his brother's name and Theodore is Descole's younger brother, of that there can be no doubt. So Hershel Layton is both Theodore and Hershel, a quiet, unspoken legacy that lives on in his name, a mix of the last of the broken Bronev family. Yet, if Hershel and Theodore is someone else, then Descole cannot be Hershel or Theodore. After all, Hershel Layton will always be Theodore Bronev, his little brother, and gifts -even of names- should not be asked back for. And Descole will not ( ~~cannot~~ ) be Hershel, smart and talented and caring, or Theodore, childish and clumsy and innocent. Thus, at less than a decade old, Descole ceased to be Hershel, and he could never be Theodore.

Descole had been Desmond Sycamore a long time ago, when he had thought there was better things in the world than revenge and power. When there was more to his life than Targent and the Azran, when his life was summer with bright sunlit paths and warmth. Then, Desmond had met Autumn, that wonderful person. They had met in an clumsy exchange of  _I'm so sorry_ and  _It's fine_ when they had picked the same book in the library. Descole could still remember her scarlet hair, warm hazel eyes, voice like wind chimes and sweet, reassuring smile. Once, before their marriage, he had told her the history of him and his family, expecting her to spurn or hate him, yet she had pulled him into an embrace, crying the tears Desmond no longer shed, and accepted him, raw, broken and empty as he was(is). Their daughter was equally radiant as her mother, scarlet hair and russet eyes and full of cheer.  _Perhaps, Desmond thought, there is no need for revenge any longer._

But summer passes over to autumn, and eventually the biting winds of winter entered Desmond Sycamore's life.

"Professor Sycamore. Will you join us in our endeavour?"

 _No, not a chance. No matter who you are, ~~Father~~ , I will not( ~~cannot~~ ) help you. There is no peace in a life like this. I could never help you._ Sycamore stares into russet eyes like his own and tells that man this, it will never happen, over his dead body.

"Not your dead body, then. Let us see if other dead bodies will make you change your mind."

It is next week, that the dead bodies of Autumn and their precious daughter is found then he realises. In the mail, he receives a lock of Autumn's scarlet hair, and a ribbon he tied in his daughter's hair himself, both bloodstained with a single note, and he laughs, weeps and laughs more _-the utter true fool I am-_  That man  ~~ _Father_~~ , has not hesitated to murder his own blood, so neither will he(I) hesitate any longer. At their funeral, Demond reads the note he received.

_There are consequences to every action._

Yes, indeed there are, Bronev.

* * *

 

 

He has to pick a new name, Desmond Sycamore has died with his family already. He chooses Jean Descole. Descole wears heavy clothing and a mask, to hide russet eyes like his father, brown hair like his mother, and his very own burdened soul. Raymond continues to follow him, that loyal, faithful trusty man. Out of curiosity( ~~concern~~ ), Descole searches for Hershel Layton. The poor child. His best friend, lost, his lover, dead, and Descole thinks of a boy who tried to make his brother happy and this is what he gets?  _(Hasn't the Bronev blood suffered enough? Haven't I lost enough? Must the Bronevs be so cursed?)_

People always forget -or don't care- that Descole was( ~~is~~ ) Hershel, a child renowned for his intelligence. Of course Descole is much smarter than he seems. In Misthallery, Descole knows there isn't gold here. No, the true treasure is the chance to live and breathe the purest air. And Targent should not be allowed to get such boons. So, if he must, he will fight that oversized sea lion over and over again. So the garden may never open. There is no precious technology there to glean. But, when his robot is destroyed, he bows out, stage left- Arianna was someone's daughter, and who is he to rob children of their frail lives? Descole is not Targent, nor is he a killer. He carries the burdens of deaths on his back, and he will not add a ten-year old to that. No, Arianna deserves to live.

Then there is Ambrosia, and yes, he did overlook the third melody. However, he plays with Layton(Hershel) acting the part of an ineffectual villain. Descole could never hurt Theodore or anyone he holds dear and if this implantation was successful, then Autumn could- it matters no longer. Let Layton believe him to be weak. There are more ruins, more of the accursed Azran ruins around, and if he could successfully get the last few then his revenge will be complete. Just a little more.

In Monte d'Or, he had pulled Randall Ascot- the best friend of a brother he never knew- out of some backward village in a ravine. It's simple to whisper sweet lies and warped truths to him. Ascot wants to believe that he's justified, that it's correct to take revenge. Descole merely pushes him. Ascot's stories are laughable. What about a king getting betrayed by an advisor? Ascot is just some pawn in game far too large for recklessness or pettiness. However, Bronev(damn that man) steals the fruit of his labour right under his nose. He is trounced by the man he once adored, and his mask is lifted away for but a brief second. It is enough. As Descole and Raymond fly away, he hears a single question.

_"Hershel?"_

* * *

 

 

It's been harder and harder lately. Jean Descole and Desmond Sycamore are melding into one another, and the need for revenge ebbs away, little by little. Aurora looks like  _her_ , hauntingly so, and Desmond has to brush of the smiles and move on. But enough of Descole stays in control. And Descole is smart, if nothing else. He knows from the way Altava looks around or stops smiling all of a sudden, and he knows who she is. What she is.

Against Descole, Desmond Sycamore bonds with everyone. He drinks tea with Layton, does puzzles with Luke, talk to Aurora about the Azran, watches Raymond or Keats with Emmy. He tells himself this is all to build their trust, so they can be deceived, yet his heart piles lies upon lies to keep himself placated. Both Desmond and Descole.

There is a mole, and Descole knows who. There is a mole, and Bronev will end up with the key. So Descole tosses it over without a struggle. He has no fear of guns.  _You have already killed Sycamore. I fear no mortal peril any longer!_ The seals start to glow, and Descole watches, half-amused at the antics of Layton and Luke. Emmy betrays them, as he knew she would. But now Layton is alone, and he offers his help to Layton. His brother will not die, not here.

There is no longer any difference between Desmond Sycamore and Jean Descole. Why else would he praise Luke(why, indeed?) and memories of a girl, who died at the age Luke is now, a bright, smart girl with russet eyes and scarlet hair. Which is why, when the statue's eyes glow, he takes the shot for Luke -there is a girl who died as Luke lives, and he can save this child, hell if he lets an innocent child of twelve die in front of him again, especially one Hershel is so fond of.

It burns. Hershel rushes to his side, holding him. It's now or never. Hershel Bronev, Desmond Sycamore and Jean Descole, together, speak the one story they've(he's) always held onto, a story more than three decades old, the story wrapped up delicately, preserved carefully in the recesses of mind. The truth that Theodore should know, deserves to know but doesn't know. He starts.

Your name, dearest brother, is Hershel Layton. Our father is Bronev. Our mother, Rachel, is long gone. And my name is... ...

_(What is my name?)_

He walks into the light. It burns, stings, like loss and regret and revenge and lasers and pain and death and betrayal- and he thinks of the many Hershels trying to save Theodores and Desmonds trying to save Autumns and Descoles saving Lukes- and he, injured, broken husk he is will not die here, he will protect and save humanity, as foolish, cruel and greedy and selfish as it is(as he is). And so, he falls. Into a deep, painful peace.

Where the Bronevs, torn apart by the past can meet again. Where the Sycamores can meet again.

* * *

 

 

_"Your people gave me hope... ...and a purpose of my own."_

_Hope? A worthless illusion. Desmond Sycamore had hoped, and look what happened to him?_

_"Is this what Autumn and your daughter would have wanted from you? What about the hopes of your family? Have you lost them too?"_

_... ..._

_"I have seen the sadness and longing in your eyes, Professor Sycamore. You may deny it, but surely, you still have the capacity to love...and hope."_

_You're wrong. I...am... ..._

_"There is still kindness within you. I forgive you, even if you will not forgive yourself, Jean Descole. So will your brother."_

_What do you know, emissary?_

_"You have suffered greatly. You have anguish enough to crush your spirit, but you also have great strength. You mustn't  give up!"_

* * *

 

 

_I'm still alive._

He drags himself to his feet and escapes the crumbling ruins. Aurora gives him one last smile before she disappears behind falling ceiling crashing around all of them. he stands alone, gazing at the golden mist Aurora dissolves into, standing on breaking foundations, alone, as Layton leads the others to safety. He turns, and sees Hersel crying out for him, so easily deceived, still always the little brother. 

Now he stands, flying towards new journeys with Raymond, and he is free of all his burdens and doubts.

_I am Jean Descole. Targent has not fallen completely. My revenge has not ended. Let us go, Raymond. Our journey(crusade) awaits._

* * *

 

 

Three Years Later

Descole slips in through the window and winces at the loud crying, and looks the the suffering girl on the couch, staring at him. Unperturbed, Descole lands on the floor lightly and drily remarks "I didn't expect the rumour to be true." Descole gazes at the bundle in Hershel's arms, Hershel attempting to calm the child.

"Come. You've never done this before...right? Pass him over." Descole cradles the boy, the boy with red hair, red hair like a girl who died many years ago. He softly hushes the boy, and within moments the boy is sound asleep.

"My word..." Hershel seems astonished as he watches. "Who are they, then?" Descole asks, referring to the girl on the couch and the boy. "Ah, yes. I adopted the two of them. That is Flora Reinhold, and the boy is Alfendi. Alfendi Layton." Flora hastily curtises and backs out of the room, leaving the two of them and Alfendi in the room.

"I used to do this, you know." Descole says softly, looking at Alfendi. Under Hershel's inquisitive gaze, he continues. "You were such a crybaby as a child." Hershel chuckles softly. The memories of the scarlet haired girl are not his to share, those memories belong to a kinder man within him, a man who had hoped against hope, a man named Desmond Sycamore. But surely, childhood memories are Jean Descole's and Hershel Bronev's to share, yes?

"Then, what kind of child were you, brother?"

"Hmmm...I was famous for my intelligence. The people called me a prodigy."

"Ah, I see. As I expected."

"I was also angelic as a child."

"... ..."

"Did I say something strange?"

 

Yes, surely tomorrow will be brighter. At least, I hope.

**Author's Note:**

> The ending was adapted from a comic I saw. I can't remember the link though. I hope you enjoyed the story!


End file.
